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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23565517">drink the choccy chips</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjodieyet/pseuds/notjodieyet'>notjodieyet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, From a request, Gift for a friend, It's all soft, M/M, Multi, and soft, awesome friend, i love these three you don't even understand i love them, i thought we might need some fluff, in these hard times, please stop letting me or my beta reader title things, soft, ten is needy, tensimmrose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:08:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23565517</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjodieyet/pseuds/notjodieyet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>the master begs for baked goods; the TARDIS team devolves into chaos. eggs are made, checkers is played, there is a resounding defeat.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm), Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm)/Rose Tyler, The Doctor &amp; Donna Noble, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler, The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), The Doctor/The Master/Rose Tyler, The Master &amp; Martha Jones, The Master &amp; Rose Tyler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>drink the choccy chips</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“IIIIIIII,” said the Master, “want sweets.”</p>
<p>The Doctor blinked away the sleep from his eyes and said, “Please get off my chest, I can’t breathe.”</p>
<p>The Master grinned in the half-dark of the morning. (The Doctor really, really hoped he hadn’t woken them both up at 5 AM again. It made them both cranky and snippy the whole day; Donna had threatened to slap him silly several times during breakfast, and not in the sexy way.) (Not that the Doctor wanted Donna to slap him silly in the sexy way. That thought was less appealing than Rose eating an entire pear, slice by slice, in front of him. Which she had done. On purpose.) “You’re going to bake for me.”</p>
<p>	“I’m going to bake for you?” muttered the Doctor, still half-plunged into his absolutely lovely dream involving libraries and quantum mechanics. </p>
<p>	“You are indeed.” The Master gave him a little kiss on the nose, as if to coax him into agreeing before his mind cleared up. </p>
<p>	The Doctor laughed and wrapped his arms around him, kissing him properly and lazily, sleep clouding the edges of his mind. “You know I can’t bake.”</p>
<p>	“I’ll teach you.”</p>
<p>	“I have no patience.”</p>
<p>	“I’ll bribe you.” To exemplify his point, or perhaps tempt him into agreement, the Master kissed him on that wonderful spot on his neck, wheedling a happy little <i>mmm</i> from the Doctor’s throat. </p>
<p>	“Oh, all right. Get off me so I can get dressed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It took another fifteen or twenty minutes for the Doctor to get out of bed, because every time he even considered pushing the Master off his chest, the Master took the opportunity to swoop down and kiss him until both their respiratory bypasses ran out.</p>
<p>With a fair bit of pleading, praise, and trickery, the Doctor eventually managed to get up, get dressed, and go to the kitchen. The Master followed behind, complaining. (And <i>he</i> was the one that wanted cookies, the hypocrite.) </p>
<p>	Rose was in the dining room, playing checkers with Martha, and evidently losing rather harshly. The Doctor kissed her cheek and said, “Good morning, gorgeous.”</p>
<p>	“Morning,” said Martha, with a completely straight face, and Donna laughed on the other side of the room. “King me, Tyler.”</p>
<p>	Rose did, and then said, “What are you two up to?”</p>
<p>	“Doctor’s going to bake. Let’s see if we end up with dough or dust this time,” said the Master, and he slid into the seat next to Rose. </p>
<p>	“You <i>begged</i> me for it, bastard,” said the Doctor. </p>
<p>	Rose giggled, and moved one of her pieces. The Master clicked his tongue disapprovingly (he’d always been good at checkers, for some reason) and said, “Move the one on the right.”</p>
<p>	“I can move my own checkers,” said Rose. </p>
<p>	“I’m just <i>saying</i>,” said the Master. </p>
<p>	Rose patted his arm, and got up. “Take over for me. I’m going to go through the cookbooks for your cookies.” </p>
<p>	The Master took Rose’s seat without complaint. “So, Dr. Jones, where were we?”</p>
<p>	Rose winked at the Doctor before rushing off into the kitchen, and the Doctor sat down to watch Martha and the Master play checkers. </p>
<p>	“<i>Begged</i> for cookies, huh?” said Martha. </p>
<p>	The Master flushed. “Not begged.”</p>
<p>	“I’ve been bribed,” said the Doctor, offhandedly. </p>
<p>	The Master went even redder, but he was saved from explaining himself by Donna yelling, “<i>Doctor, have you eaten</i>?”</p>
<p>	“No,” said the Doctor, quietly.</p>
<p>	“<i>What</i>?”</p>
<p>	“Nooooo,” said the Doctor, even more quietly. </p>
<p>	Donna shouted, “<i>Somebody feed that man before he falls over</i>!” and then without a moment to let anybody else respond, walked over and said, “Fine, I’ll do it myself. Eggs, Doctor?”	</p>
<p>	“I’d like eggs,” said the Master.</p>
<p>	“<i>Eggs, Doctor?</i>”</p>
<p>	“I’d like eggs.”</p>
<p>	Donna pointedly turned away from the Master, and said, “Eggs, Doctor?” again.</p>
<p>	“Yes, please,” said the Doctor. “Thank you.” He smirked at the sulking Master over Donna’s shoulder, who softly tapped the side of his own neck. The Doctor pouted. “Fine. I think my beloved would like some eggs as well?”</p>
<p>	The Master brightened at even the <i>hint</i> of a compliment. “Thank youuuuu,” he said, and Donna ruffled his hair as she walked by. </p>
<p>	The checkers board clicked with their game. Every so often either one would go “Ah-hah!” and the other one would sigh and tsk. </p>
<p>	The Doctor liked to watch the Master like this, when he wasn’t watching <i>back</i>, when he was wrapped up in something and didn’t know that the Doctor’s eyes were tracking his movements, which was actually all sounding extremely creepy now. But stalkerish vibes aside, the Doctor really did like <i>watching</i> the Master, noticing all the little tics and things he did when he was thinking or laughing or frowning.</p>
<p>	Martha exclaimed wordlessly, moved her piece with a ticktick sound, and took off the Master’s last three pieces from the board. “And that,” she said, “Is your horrible defeat. Bow to me, Master. I am your Master now.”</p>
<p>	The Master rolled his eyes. “I had to take Rose’s place —”</p>
<p>	“I won.”</p>
<p>	“She started me off badly!”</p>
<p>	“Still won.”</p>
<p>	“It wasn’t my game!”</p>
<p>	“Admit defeat!”</p>
<p>	The Master sighed dramatically and bowed his head. “Fine. You won. But I’m not going to let you —”	</p>
<p>	“I won, you lost, I’m the best,” said Martha.</p>
<p>	“I’m not saying that.”</p>
<p>	“<i>I won, you lost, I’m the best.</i>”</p>
<p>	The Master gritted his teeth and said, “You… won.” He glanced over to the Doctor and went pink again, as if embarrassed for the Doctor to see his defeat. The Doctor, on his part, was utterly delighted to watch his boyfriend suffer a humiliating defeat. “And I lost.”	</p>
<p>	“Aaaand?”</p>
<p>	“And you’re the best,” he mumbled, looking small and angry. The Doctor loved him so, so much. </p>
<p>	He was saved from further mortification by Rose skipping in from the kitchen to say, “Found a good recipe!” while holding a book that probably weighed about as much as she did. “We do have eggs, right?”</p>
<p>	“If Donna’s not cooked them all,” said the Doctor. </p>
<p>	“If I’ve not broken them all, really,” said the Master, who hadn’t broken any eggs. </p>
<p>	“Get out my seat or I’ll sit on you,” said Rose, glaring at the Master, who stood up and planted himself quite solidly on the Doctor’s lap. The Doctor kissed him gently on the jaw. Martha glanced at them and smiled. </p>
<p>	Donna came out with her cooked eggs, speak of the Devil, and set a plate down in front of the Doctor, the Master, and Rose. “Before you bake, or summon a demon…” Donna glanced warily at the cookbook. “Uh, just eat up, I guess.”</p>
<p>	“Thank you,” said the Doctor.</p>
<p>	“Thank you,” said Rose.</p>
<p>	The Master did not thank anybody. </p>
<p>	“So this says we need a bag of chocolate chips,” said Rose, flipping open her cookbook and taking a giant bite of scrambled eggs. </p>
<p>	“Why aren’t we just looking online?” asked Martha. </p>
<p>	The Master nuzzled the Doctor’s neck and said, “Drink the chocolate chips.” </p>
<p>	“What?” said the Doctor.</p>
<p>	“Drink. Them.” </p>
<p>	The Doctor was a bit distracted by the Master’s very soft eyes, and he started to kiss the Master very thoroughly down the neck. The Master made a nice little noise as he said, “Drink the chocolate chips, Rose.”</p>
<p>	“Do not drink the chocolate chips, Rose,” said Donna. </p>
<p>	“I think we <i>should</i> drink the chocolate chips.”	</p>
<p>	The Master smelled very nice. His usual wildfire and sharp metal, and a nice undertone of coconut — a new shampoo? The Doctor wanted to bury his face in his hair and fall back asleep with his boyfriend on his lap. </p>
<p>	“No chocolate chip drinking!” said Donna.</p>
<p>	“Yes!” said Rose.</p>
<p>	“No!”</p>
<p>	“Can you read the rest of the recipe?” said Martha. </p>
<p>	Rose read the rest of the recipe, but the Doctor was too busy losing himself in thoughts of cuddling and kissing and sleeping to listen. He would like to cuddle Rose, too, when she was finished making cookies; <i>she</i> smelled of flowers and apples and fresh ferns, usually.</p>
<p>	The Doctor hardly noticed when Martha and Donna and Rose went to go to the kitchen, leaving their dishes behind; he was too busy kissing the back of the Master’s neck. </p>
<p>	“You have to go help,” said the Master.</p>
<p>	“Hmmm.”</p>
<p>	“I’m going to help and then you’ll be all alone.”</p>
<p>	“Fiiiiine.” </p>
<p>	The kitchen was, somehow already a mess. Martha seemed determined to finish the recipe (“<i>Rose Tyler get away from the chocolate chips!</i>”), Donna was trying to sweep flour off the tiles (it seemed a fruitless effort, but he respected her determination), and Rose was pouring milk into a measuring cup while chewing something (probably chocolate chips).</p>
<p>	“Need a hand?” said the Master, and Rose passed him some cups. </p>
<p>	“Can you measure out five of those?” </p>
<p>	The Doctor sidled up to the Master, and slid his arms around his middle, locking his fingers together and resting his chin on the Master’s shoulder. “You’re an excellent measurerer,” he said. </p>
<p>	“What happened to ‘you bastard’?” </p>
<p>	Rose snorted. “Too much flour, Master.”</p>
<p>	“I thought you already <i>did</i> the flour!” shouted Donna. “Why is the floor covered?”</p>
<p>	“You’re sort of an excellent measurer,” said the Doctor. </p>
<p>	“Do the chocolate chips,” said Rose. </p>
<p>	The Doctor started to nibble at the bottom of the Master’s right ear, and he giggled. “Doctor, stop that!”</p>
<p>	“Noooooo.”</p>
<p>	“Doctorrrrrr!”</p>
<p>	Rose hit at the Master’s hand. “Too many chocolate chips!”</p>
<p>	“No such thing,” said the Master. “And <i>you</i> gave me chocolate chip responsibility, so it’s really your —”</p>
<p>	Martha snatched the measuring cup and the chocolate chips from the Master. “Mine now. Chocolate chip responsibility revoked. Doctor, stop monkey-ing.”</p>
<p>	“What?”</p>
<p>	Martha waved a hand at him. “Your monkey thing. You’re all latched on.”</p>
<p>	“I’m not monkey-ing!” </p>
<p>	“You are. You’re distracting my chef,” said Martha. </p>
<p>	The Doctor gave the Master one last kiss on the neck, and untangled himself, pouting. “Fine.”</p>
<p>	“Out.”</p>
<p>	“What?”</p>
<p>	Martha pointed to the door. “Out out out, mister.”</p>
<p>	“You can’t kick me out of my own kitchen!”</p>
<p>	“Mine now. Rose, bat your eyelashes at him, or something?” Martha smirked. </p>
<p>	Rose leaned up and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Go, go. We’ll bring you cookies.”</p>
<p>	“You better!” The Doctor looked at his partners, warmly, and sulked out of the kitchen. He found himself a book that he’d been halfway through and sat down next to a brand-new fireplace, quickly losing himself in philosophical theory.</p>
<p>	The cookies were ready shortly, and Donna put on <i>Parks and Recreation,</i> while the Doctor cuddled up to Rose and the Master in an irreversible tangle of limbs and warmth and softness, and feel nicely, blissfully, back to sleep. </p>
<p>	Everything was very, very good.</p>
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